


Solitary Man

by Pippin4242



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Gen, M/M, also i listened to all of ear hustle and cried at work, graphic violence mention, remember that one illustration of fai on a roof, shipping barely there but tagged in case anyone's avoiding it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin4242/pseuds/Pippin4242
Summary: The mage is an odd one, which everyone knows. Kurogane doesn't want to be here and he doesn't want to engage with his strangeness. But the last thing the party needs is extra attention.Get down from there, dammit!





	1. The Face In The Sky

_When does a playful quirk become something more troubling,_ wondered Kurogane.

They had already traversed several worlds, and he seemed frustratingly no closer to home. This country, the country of Jade, was a barren land in a cold season. The people's hearts seemed as tight and closed-off as their fields. The snow on the ground had a thin crust of ice each morning when he stepped out of their temporary accommodation. And it wasn't that he was resigned to taking care of the children, it was that the mage definitely wasn't trustworthy. No matter how much he would like to ignore the task he'd been set and instead do anything he could to make it back to Nihon, Kurogane's ninja alertness prevented him from ignoring the disturbed behaviour of his odd, milk-pale travel companion.

Like right now. The mage was sitting on the roof. Not so strange in some countries, and certainly less so in lands where the gables were a little closer to the ground. The foreign clothes suited him well enough, but he made a spectacle with his tight-clad legs sticking out over the edge like that. And the man was simply staring. As if he were a machine turned off, or a lifeless corpse.

“How funny,” laughed the Princess gently, and stepped indoors, her hand resting on Syaoran's arm. “Did you see?” heard Kurogane as Syaoran diplomatically shut the door. “Fai-san was playing on the roof!”

“Mage,” Kurogane called out softly. “Mage.”

The wizard didn't respond.

“Mage.”

He had a soft look on his face. Same vague smile as always. Crystal-clear eyes, with their heavy lids, wide open, almost reflecting the snow as it slowly fell. His floppy, silly fringe was plastered against his forehead with the dampness of snowmelt. His arms fell between his knees, going right over the edge of the roof, and his shoulders appeared hyperextended in this faux casual stance. Surely... that hurt?

A speck of snow landed on the pinkish tip of his pale, pale nose, and the mage didn't so much as blink.

Damn the man. He was making a scene. Surely they'd never get the feather unmolested and get moving again at this rate. How had he even made it up there...?

Well, Kurogane thought, if he was ever going to make it back to Nihon and give Tomoyo-hime a piece of his mind, he couldn't afford any distractions or delays. He went around to the side of the building, trying not to consider the fact that the mage would probably ordinarily claim that he was stamping in a fit of pique (and he _wasn't_ , it was just cold, and he was being energetic and decisive) and there, that was a sensible route up. It... apparently wasn't the one the mage had taken, since the snow was undisturbed, but it looked as though a man with a decent sense of balance could easily enough clamber onto the water butt and pull himself up at the lowest point of the roof.

Throwing his sword up before him, Kurogane did just that.

The tiles hit him hard in the belly, and he missed the protection of his springy armour. He grunted and swore under his breath as he dragged himself up, cursing the man who'd driven him to this. Who still crouched, unperturbed, staring mildly out into the falling snow.

“Mage!” hissed Kurogane, crawling gingerly over to him. “Mage for _god's_ sake, what are you _doing_?”

His covered knees were slippery and unfamiliar on the roof, and he could see furrows forming in the snow as he inched closer to the mage. There were none leading up to Fai. Had he made it here by magic, or had he been here for hours? Kurogane mentally flicked back through the day thus far. He'd definitely been there at breakfast, fussing about jam, and trying to make him eat it (it was _sweet_ , no way to wake your mouth up and start the day), and he'd seen him in the library earlier with the boy. But he was always flitting around, wasn't he? Really, who knew?

He was close by now, and still the mage didn't react. It wouldn't do to be rash at this point.

Kurogane knelt very carefully behind Fai, making sure the snow in front of him wasn't disturbed into sliding forward. He leaned slowly, reaching forward with his two strong arms, and his legs braced wide. Slowly, agonisingly, he closed them about Fai's skinny little shoulders, and he drew the unresisting man into a more upright position.

“Mage,” he said, in an ordinary tone. “Fai. What are you doing up here?”

Fai slowly sank back into Kurogane's lap, his body unfolding, his legs falling over the edge of the roof as he relaxed.

“Sit-ting,” he replied, distantly.

“There's _snow_ on your face,” Kurogane pointed out, disproportionately angry. “Snow. How long were you even _up_ here?”

“Don't know,” Fai said, closing his eyes.

This was all wrong. Where was the usual energy, the bullying, the sniping, the teasing, the back-and-forth he'd already come to know and get so intolerably fed-up with?

“Mage?” he asked, his voice sounding smaller than usual. “Mage!” Kurogane shook him by the shoulders, carefully. “What's going on? Why are you acting so strange?”

“Kuro-tan... thinks I'm strange?” murmured Fai, vaguely, without opening his eyes. “That's... normal, isn't it?”

“Are you – are you sick or something?” asked Kurogane urgently, feeling he somehow lacked the language to express whatever it was that was truly worrying him. “Fai-san? Are you feeling okay?”

“Just... feeling...” Kuogane girded himself to wait, as the words came out like treacle. “Quiet.” He waited for a further explanation, but none seemed forthcoming.

“Quiet how?” asked Kurogane, annoyed. “Most people don't let snow form on their heads just because they want to be alone. Anyway, I thought you _loved_ company.”

“Usually. Mmmm. Usually like people,” Fai agreed. “Lots. Felt quiet after breakfast. Thought. I should. Go away somewhere.”

“Why?” asked Kurogane flatly.

“You... know.”

“Didn't want to scare the kids?” he asked, irritated to be filling in the blanks.

“Yes my good man. Yes. 'Sides. Like it. Quiet. Used to quiet.”

“You're used to the quiet?” asked Kurogane, curious despite himself. He'd always somehow imagined the mage working in a big, lively court where the fireplace was the size of a bed and the bards drowned out all conversation held at a normal volume, or running a crazy laboratory on the edge of town, with locals queueing out of the door, coming to trade goods for services – a piglet for an earache cure, a dance for a spell to cure a sore throat, a sack of apples for good rains, something like that. The point was he didn't _know_ , Fai never said _anything_ about where he'd come from. But it was so easy to imagine him surrounded by people and noise and light and colour. Anything else seemed... absurd.

“Mmmmm,” allowed the mage, in affirmation.

“Well?” goaded Kurogane. “Was it always quiet where you came from?”

“Oh... no. Sometimes. No. Not that,” said Fai, his eyes still closed tight. Kurogane brushed the wet hair from Fai's forehead in irritation, but the mage didn't open them.

“Well where did you get so damn used to the quiet then?” he asked, shaking him slightly as he spoke.

“Oh. Um. Long – long time ago. I – I should get up,” Fai attempted, in a slightly more colourful tone. He seemed worried. He seemed to be trying to stand.

“Careful,” warned Kurogane. “You're... you're coming round from some sort of... state you were in. I don't know what to call it. You know you were up here a really long time, right?”

“Y-es...” allowed Fai, and stopped wriggling.

“Well, do you often do that?”

“Not so often. I think.”

“Since we started the journey?” Kurogane reached down one hand to pin the mage to the roof a little more firmly.

“No. Don't think,” he said, struggling with something.

“Is it hard for you to speak right now?” asked Kurogane, carefully.

“Mmmm. Maybe. Yes.”

“I want to make sure you come down safely, because you've been up here a long time. Your nose has gone all pink and weird, and so've your cheeks. But I think maybe it would be better if we avoid the kids when we get off the roof. Want to find a different inn and warm up?”

“...Yes,” allowed Fai.

“Do you remember how you got up here?” asked Kurogane. “Honestly. I'm not going to ask about magic, but I really need to know if you remember.”

“...No.”

“Okay. Can you go down in front of me? See my tracks?”

Fai opened his eyes suddenly, and twisted his head to one side like a marionette. Kurogane's tracks were there, clear as day.

“Yes.”

“Fai-san?”

“Y-es?”

“I want you to get on your hands and knees, and go really slowly, and only touch where I was. Okay?”

“Yes,” said Fai, sounding a little lost as he processed this request. Slowly, jerkily, he clambered onto his hands and knees, without any of the usual spring in his step. He crawled slowly through Kurogane's sludgy tracks up to the edge of the roof closest to the water butt.

“Okay,” Kurogane advised. “Sit up and put your feet over the edge. I'm right behind you.”

“I'm not scared of heights,” said Fai, quietly.

“I'm not suggesting you are. But you're acting very strange and I don't want to make any mistakes and see you get hurt.” Which would potentially tie them to one world, and slow down his return to Nihon. It was only natural to worry about such things, and didn't mean that he was getting overly invested in the well-being of the people he was travelling with.

Fai swung his ankles out from underneath himself. Kurogane placed his hands under the mage's arms.

“Okay, push off, and stand on the water butt, down there, okay?” he asked carefully.

“Okay,” agreed Fai, and he very carefully fell to the water butt, with Kurogane slowly letting him go. He climbed to ground level from there without prompting, and wobbled where he stood only very slightly.

Kurogane was about to jump down after him, when he remembered the sword still up beside him. He grabbed it, almost an afterthought, and leapt down quickly, in two stumbling stages.

“Cocoa,” he said, firmly to the mage, and grasped his arm to pull him onwards.

Fai's arm was skinny, even through the thick cloth, and he didn't resist as they walked through the town together. It seemed quieter than a town of its size might be, and Kurogane remembered the people here had their own problems and strangenesses with which to deal, and probably had no time to worry about a strange wizard who liked to sit in the snow until he forgot how to speak normally.

There was another place to order food and drink, and it was even open. The lady at the counter was elderly, and raised an eyebrow archly over her spectacles when they entered, but didn't bother Kurogane after he carefully pushed Fai into a seat in the corner, and came up to count through his change and make sure he could afford a drink each.

Fai said nothing as they waited for the two cocoas, but had that same insolent half smile plastered across his face the entire time. It was infuriating. Kurogane found his fingers were drumming on the white tablecloth, and realised how rude this looked, so switched to drumming his toes inside his boots instead. This was much more difficult, but concentrating on it made the time seem to go faster. It was better than just staring at the silent, spaced-out mage, anyway. His damp hair, and his expressionless eyes, and his fake smile, his smooth skin, and his tired, tired expression. How old was the man anyway? Kurogane realised he'd never gotten round to asking. He seemed so clean-cut and energetic that normally it seemed obvious that the answer must be, at least “quite young,” but his unusual looks, and the way he played things off when he didn't want to talk made it quite hard to be sure.

The old lady came out herself with the drinks, placing them in front of the two men with careful deliberateness.

“Thank you,” said Kurogane, abruptly, suddenly realising Fai wasn't about to say anything. He forced a smile. “Looks good.”

She smiled politely and returned to her post, reading a tattered old book with the cover half-off. Kurogane imagined she was just the kind of person Fai would usually enjoy bothering. At least she wasn't likely to listen in on their conversation, preoccupied as she was.

“Mage...” opened Kurogane, weakly.

Seemingly noticing the cocoa for the first time, Fai took it with both hands, and appeared to be about to take a large gulp, before remembering to test the heat with his tongue. “Yes?” he responded, suddenly.

“Why did you get used to being so quiet?” Kurogane sipped at his own cocoa. He wasn't really sure what the drink was made of, nor what to expect – he'd just remembered Fai mentioning it before. It was odd, and rather too sweet for his tastes, but he didn't feel like letting Fai know that right now.

“Mmmm,” demurred Fai, sipping his cocoa with apparent pleasure. “Not bad. Kuro-pon, do we really have to do this?” He made proper eye contact for the first time in a while.

“Look, I made sure the kids and the pork bun aren't here to listen in, and the old lady wouldn't care if I up and stabbed someone. I just need to know where I stand. We're the only two adults on this trip, and I'll be able to keep us safe better if I know roughly where you're coming from.”

Fai looked troubled.

“I'm not asking you for the whole story,” protested Kurogane. “I didn't ask who's chasing you, what you're running away from, what the full deal with your unsafe magic is. I just want to know why you got all quiet and weird up there, and whether you space out like that a lot.”

“Hmmmm,” considered Fai, who was already halfway down his mug of cocoa. His skin had become pink and flushed in the warmth of the café, and under different circumstances, it might have been quite an appealing look on him.

“Just the relevant bits,” wheedled Kurogane.

“I... spent some of my childhood completely alone,” confessed Fai, staring at the table. The absence of a smile made Kurogane sure there was no question that this was the truth, even if it wasn't all of it. “I think... it's my perception – that it makes you go a bit strange. It was a long time, I'm not talking about a few days. Months. Maybe as much as a year, or more. I would see things which weren't there, and even talking to myself didn't keep the words coming out right. Sometimes the night would seem to go on for too long, or the day would, and I'd realise I'd completely left my mind and missed one or the other. Two days or two nights in a row. Just because I didn't notice any of the in-between.”

He seemed to run out of things to say, and drained his cocoa. Kurogane quietly pushed his sipped-at mug to the mage, who warmed his hands on it.

“So...” tried Kurogane. “As far as you're aware, do you get like you were earlier often?” He tried not to think about the why, the what, the how, the _who does that to a child_ , the _are you okay_.

“I really don't think so,” said Fai thoughtfully. “I know I wouldn't notice too clearly because of the nature of it, but I do know when my words won't work well, and I do know when I seem to have gaps in time. I haven't seen things which weren't there for years.” He chuckled, the easy grin springing back out of nowhere. “As far as I know.”

A lull fell across the table. Kurogane could see so many directions in which the conversation could go. But he didn't _want_ to embrace the mage and all his pain and become his new closest companion, and he couldn't see any reason that Fai would want that either.

Fai's eyes flicked up for a moment, questioning – the cocoa?

“It's yours,” muttered Kurogane, gesturing in dismissal. “Turns out I'm not really into it.”

“If Kuro-nyan is sure,” smiled Fai agreeably, sipping at the second mug.

“You think there's any danger?” asked Kurogane, trying to remember why he'd even wanted to know. “Does it ever come on suddenly?”

“I don't think it's insurpassable even if it does...” mused Fai. “You got me off the roof safely, yes? I didn't jump down, or use my magic?”

This seemed to be a genuine question.

“Yeah, you climbed down fine. I talked you through it.”

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” Seemed crass to tell the mage he'd just been worried about drawing unwanted attention. Completely alone as a child? Had he been locked up or marooned? Lost, abandoned, escaped? Was he running from whoever he was running from now? Had he lived a normal life at any point after that?

“So...” Kurogane began. “You want a signal for if you're getting weird and I've noticed?”

“Sure,” said Fai cheerfully, “but I probably wouldn't remember it. What about just pointing up, like this, to remind me of how you came to get me off the roof? At least that's simple.”

“Yeah, that could work. I figure this is something you didn't want to talk about a bunch, or you would have brought it up already. So... is it okay if I just try and bring you somewhere quiet and safe, if it's possible?”

“I'm not sure – nobody's ever asked about it, really,” admitted Fai. “Don't get me wrong, I've known lots of kind people since then, and I'm really nothing like I used to be, but I don't think anybody noticed or at least – minded? if I acted strange for, I don't know, a few hours every couple of months. I know it's different now, and we've got the children and the mission to think about... I think it worked well today. I feel... mostly normal at the moment.”

“I'll get you,” Kurogane assured him, and watching him finish the second mug of cocoa, he began to feel better too.

They walked back to their original inn together, and they didn't talk about anything personal or important the whole way.

It was probably for the best.


	2. The Lake At Night

He carefully follows the larger man. Step and step and step and step. Snow underfoot which is good and home. Can't see up unless he lifts his eyes, can't see down unless he lowers his head. The inn in front exists in a strip of dark colour, like a book turned on its side.

The middle of Fai is somewhere between his shoulders and his hips, and if he could only find it he might not still feel like he was tipping. The world before him is a lake at night, and he is falling into it.

And yet.

Step and step and step and step.

He knows not to trust his eyes, his middle or his mind. There's an inner voice somewhere and he listens hard for it, and when it simply says that he must look ordinary and follow Kurogane, he doesn't have any better advice to follow, so he tries to do it.

It would be easier just to lie down, but he's been fooled by impulses like that before. The lying down is so good, but the trouble after isn't.

The inn is a blurry glimmer. Reaching it is clearly impossible, but falling forward and putting a leg out is not. Nor is doing that one more time, and another. Understanding where the inn is in relation to his body seems unlikely, but walking at the same pace as the dark shape on his left is not.

Once it was walls all the way around. And Fai knows he hated it, knows it really, but it was simple. Everything has been far too complicated since then. The bodies were terrible but familiar. Now there were too many faces all the time. For so long the only living face he'd seen was his own, in the sky.

He wishes he could hold Fai's body, and feels very exposed without it. Corpses were home and normality for so long. Long enough to grow nails, grow hair, grow voices, crack skin, crack lips, crack speech, crack stone, crack worlds, crack minds.

Nighttime whispers to him. It says: I am safe. I am predictable. It says more things than that, things which Fai tries not to hear.

Fai knows that night and loneliness and endless shadow are where he was born. Where the sun reached the top of the sky in a wink and departed again as soon as it was caught in the act, or burned cold and distant and turned its gaze away for countless unfathomable hours. In this country of snow and so many nights it's so easy to play a familiar part.

How good it would be to be that carefree traveller. How happy he seems.

 _He cannot live,_ says the darkness. _He cannot stay alive. He can't keep breathing if you wish to save Fai. You left Fai cold and alone and in danger, you were afraid and you left him –_

But the night is familiar and it speaks only things it has said before. Fai does not doubt his commitment to his goals and remembers his rebuttals without having to consider them: it is good if the man trusts him. Fai had to be left to be saved. He was already cold when Yuui let him go. He is going to fix this. He is fixing this. With every step he is fixing it.

Just a little more, a few more smiles, a few more kind words. A few more steps to take. And then perhaps he can rest. Step and step and step and step.

And his body feels different. His skin is prickling and tight and his shoulders feel like they're floating away, and his backside feels a great pressure.

Fai concentrates and forces his eyes to focus and sees the mist and the night resolve to woodgrain, to slab slate flooring, to candlewax, and realises he is sitting near the bar at the inn where they've been staying. He isn't wearing his coat, and Syaoran has a pile of books which he is showing to him.

(He pictures the blood flowing from Kurogane's severed veins, the blackened dried-out corpse he leaves after the spell, his own sword right through him, flayed flesh, a broken neck, broken neck, head lolling horribly to one side.)

“Miles away,” he chuckles, reaching numb fingers out to receive a volume. “Let me have a look at those. Goodness, which way up do they go?”

And smiles warmly at the boy.


End file.
